Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. It would be a great matter, I must own, to bring Jonathan Wild to justice. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. The risk I run is nothing to yours. Upon which Mrs. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep.
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